


Admission of Guilt

by orsaverba



Series: It's Not Redemption [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Crappy motels, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25057426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsaverba/pseuds/orsaverba
Summary: The moment Peter admitted to himself how he felt about Quentin Beck.( Set duringIt's Not Redemption if You're Dead)[ Now available inRussian]
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Series: It's Not Redemption [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814803
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57





	Admission of Guilt

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Принятие](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25202785) by [Taracsacum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taracsacum/pseuds/Taracsacum)



> Another prompt I wrote some time ago, but just got around to typing. 
> 
> As always, come chat with me and look for fic updates on @orsaverba on Twitter

The Emperor's Suite Inn was about as rundown as a place could be without outright labeling itself as condemned. If the bus hadn't broken down a mile outside of who-the-fuck-knows Alabama in the middle of a cold snap, they'd have sooner roughed it on the side of the road. 

Beck bitched and swore the whole way from the smoking bus, and when they finally saw the neon sign it had been like a beacon. Not half a foot through the front door and they strongly considered turning around. A snowstorm was brewing, though, and who knew how far it was to the next warm bed.

Somehow, he'd weaseled a dirt cheap rate for the night and two paper cups of tasteless coffee out of the greasy night manager. So long on the run with him taught Peter to stand back and look innocent while Beck dealt with  _ people _ . 

Quentin Beck could sell the Devil fake diamonds and get out of Hell with a thank you and a smile.

Peter sat up in the creaky twin bed, mattress spring digging into his thigh and thin blanket around his shoulders. The room smelled like lemon and bleach. There was gunk in the standing shower drain and the walls were visibly water damaged. Not even the pretense of a broken TV graced the room, let alone WIFI.

What there was was a single bed pushed right up underneath an overly large picture window covered in bars. The neon glow of the  _ vacancy _ sign cut through the gap in the moth-eaten curtains, illuminating a stripe of violent red. It slid right along the length of Beck's body, barely missing his eyes. Peter had been staring at him, at the red glow, for twenty minutes.

In an abstract sense, Beck was handsome. Well, in a very literal sense too. Without a beard he was leaner, more hungry tomcat than a wolf, but good-looking nonetheless. Peter's attraction to him was obscure, though. A vague thing made mostly of heat, but also just enough feeling for him to avoid it.

It was, of course, one thing to look at Beck as he charmed their way into a few extra bucks or a kind stranger's pick-up. Lust didn't bother Peter in the least. Close quarters and mutually assured destruction made them lean too heavily into one another, so in a way, he'd almost expected it.

But looking at Beck in this piece of shit motel bed somewhere past midnight, close enough he could feel him breathing, was different. Dead asleep, bundled in a blanket that may have been navy once, he looked... 

He looked like a man. A man with a mess of brown waves and moles on his face, not a magician with a cutthroat smile. 

"I like you," Peter said to the drip of crimson light, dodging across Beck's cheek. "Bastard."


End file.
